


Breathe

by Dr_Roslin



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003), Battlestar Galactica - All Media Types
Genre: AND GIGGLING, Angst, Best one-liners, Cancer Sucks, Chapter 7 has sexual innuendo, Fluff, Giggling, More - Freeform, No Pregnancy, One Shot Collection, Safe to Read if Triggered by Pregnancy, Song Lyrics, This is season four, Time - Freeform, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Yet the fluffiest of fluff, You are always welcome in one of my beds, adorable angst, and, how is that possible?, look - Freeform, not to mention, sexual innuendo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:53:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23189533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dr_Roslin/pseuds/Dr_Roslin
Summary: Inspired by Sarah MacLauchlan's song Time these drabbles (under 1000 words - I know, that's not correct. Go with me here). I didn't get the chorus to the song right, but this is the way it sounds in my head. The following don't have to be read in order, or even together, though that's the way they were written.
Relationships: Adama/Roslin
Comments: 7
Kudos: 22





	1. Leave Me Be

**Author's Note:**

> I love Sarah Mclachan, and though it may not be apparent, this applies surprisingly often to Battlestar Galactica. (Her songs are so often full of angst, lol.)
> 
> Her song, Time in particular, kept playing in my head, the chorus inspiring a series of drabbles. I'm not even sure I got the chorus right, but this is the way it sounds in my head. The following related drabbles don't have to be read in order, or even together, though that's the way they were written. I called the series Breathe, and the first installment, Leave Me Be, follows. I always wished they showed the continuation of that argument regarding Baltar...
> 
> Also, I stole my favorite line from the entire series and put it in here. Bonus points if you can find it.
> 
> Set between Crossroads and Six of One... (Spoilers as expected)
> 
> _Leave me be  
>  I don't want to love you  
> I just get confused,  
> and I come all undone.  
> If I breathe,  
> It's just to appease you,  
> 'Cause I can't remember what we're fighting for. ___

‘Madame President.’ Even though he hadn’t raised it, his voice echoed through the halls of the old Battlestar, reaching her down the hall.

_Damn, he could project when he wanted._

Keeping her face impassive, she turned to face him. At this point, she was the only one, other than his fellow judges, who knew what he’d done. There was no point in starting new rumors of disunity among the Fleet leadership.

_Keep it together Roslin._

She sighed. She had just hoped to be able to step away, just for just a few minutes.

‘Admiral.’

He looked at her, and she could see him, trying to read her mind. Keeping her face impassive, she forced out a fake smile.

_Just get out of my face._

Instead, he took her arm, and though it appeared courteous, she could feel the steel in his grip. She knew he saw through her façade. He always did. Leading her firmly down the hall, he ushered her into the Ward Room before turning to close the hatch. She watched him but kept standing, leaning against the boardroom table.

_Fine, if that’s the way you want to play it. Let’s get this over with._

He looked at her quietly for a long moment. She focused on giving him nothing.

‘I thought we might finish our conversation from a moment ago.’

She heard his voice again in her head. _‘Not guilty is not the same as innocent.’_

Her hands hurt. She glanced down and saw that her knuckles were turning white from gripping the edge of the table. Deliberately, she relaxed them.

‘I thought our respective positions were quite clear, Admiral.’

‘You’re upset regarding my failure to find Baltar guilty.’

‘Upset?’

‘Laur- Madame President, I meant what I said earlier. We have to focus on the future, on finding earth. We can’t get locked into our bitterness, our desire for vengeance. We have to move forward. You taught me that.’

‘ _Vengeance_? I wanted _justice_. Not for me. Justice for the Fleet, for Saul, for Kara, for all of those people left behind on that rock, tortured and killed and _slaughtered_ while Baltar watched.’

He grimaced. She knew he tried, but he never could understand what it was like, stuck there, completely at the mercy of the Cylons, prone to their capricious tinkering.

‘You said the prosecution failed to make its case. That’s because it focused on the wrong thing. It’s not that he surrendered when they occupied New Caprica. What did they have, four base ships? I would have surrendered too. Surrendering to overwhelming odds, that’s not dishonorable. That’s not treason. Collaborating with the enemy, helping to hunt down those who resisted, helping them beat us, detain us, torture us, kill us. That’s treason.

He helped them. I know it. I _know_ it. You know it. You know what I saw, back on Caprica, before the attacks. You know what he did, here. You see what’s left of us.’

She heard her voice rising and tried to tamp it down.

‘How could you? How could you break with me over Baltar? Baltar!?! I know I’ve betrayed you, I know I’ve disappointed you, but that was over Kobol, over Cain. Not over some sniveling little shit like Gaius Frakking Baltar!’

She whipped around so she wouldn’t have to face him and starting pacing the length of the room.

_Hold it together, hold it together._

She just had to push the rage down, deep down, control it, and then she’d be able to focus on what she needed to do.

How could he? How could he?

She was shaking. She wished she could blame the Chamalla, but she knew that would be a lie.  
  
 _Keep it together Roslin. Keep it together._

He came around the table and stood quietly in front of her.

‘Laura, are you ready to talk to me about what happened to you on New Caprica?’

‘I’ve told you – ’

‘Not the Fleet or Sam or Ellen or Kara or Saul. You.’

‘What happened to Saul and Kara and Sam and Ellen _is_ part of what happened to me. People killed, people disappeared, people tortured. Arrested without charge, by masked policemen.’

People locked away in detention centres, held for days.

‘And I was helpless to stop it.’

He moved closer to her and stood, still as a statue. ‘Hit me.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ She turned away, wishing she could resume her pacing.

‘Seriously, Laura. Hit me.’

‘I’m not hitting the Admiral of the Fleet.’

‘Hit me.’

She growled, deep in her throat. _Keep it together, Roslin, keep it together._

'What am I five? I’m not throwing a tantrum here, Bill.’

He stepped closer, moving deliberately into her personal space. ‘Hit me.’

‘UHHH.’ She went to shove him away, but he didn’t move. Keeping his eyes on hers, he moved closer.

‘Hit me.’

She was so angry. _Keep it together, keep it together_. She shoved him again, harder. If only he’d get out of her face. When he didn’t she punched him in the chest. If only he’d leave her alone. Suddenly she was hitting him, again and again, using his chest like a punching bag, hitting him over and over and over again. She didn’t realize she was crying, silently, violently, sobbing, until it was too late.

Pulling away, she resumed pacing, wrapping her arms around herself. _Hold it together, hold it together._

She wiped her eyes angrily. ‘I don’t feel any better.’

_Liar._

He caught up to her and forced her into his embrace. ‘I know.’

They stood in silence for a moment until she broke away, moving to the door.

‘Laura.’

She turned.

‘I could never break with you. I _will_ never break with you. And you have never betrayed me. Even with regards to Kobol. It was always, will always, be you and me coming up together.’

She smiled wearily. ‘Even if it kills us?’

‘Maybe we’re coming up in body bags. But we’re coming up together.’  



	2. I Don't Want to Love You

She sighed into his shoulder, and, if anything, his arms tightened around her.

_I will not cry, I will not cry._

Thankfully, his shoulders were broad. He’d been helping shoulder her burdens since the day they’d met. He could shoulder some of her heartache, too.

‘It’s okay, I’ve got you.’

She took a deep breath, steadying herself. _It’ll be okay._ He was strong, he was fit. _He’d_ be okay.

He wouldn’t die on her.

Morbid, she knows, but she wasn’t in the greatest of places right now.

‘You know I’m dying, right?’

Even in his quarters, she was cold the moment she stepped out of his arms. Sighing, she looked up at him as she settled into her new favorite place, his couch, and he wrapped a warm blanket around her.

_Adamas. Always prepared._

She wondered if he realized how much he touched her. Their contact couldn’t be seen as inappropriate, even in public. A hand at the small of her back to direct her, a hand at her elbow to steady her, an arm extended to escort her.

Independently these actions might seem simply like acts of kindness extended to an old friend and colleague, especially one who had a serious medical condition.

Collectively they screamed intimacy.

‘Bill, we have to talk about this.’

This was, after all, the reason she’d scheduled this meeting. Transition. Medical science was doing all it could to hopefully save her life, certainly at least prolong it. But still, they had to talk about it.

He continued to pace around the room. He looked at the drink cart, but barely paused.

She laughed bitterly. ‘I mean, it’s even in the name. The Dying Leader. The gods had a sense of humor when they decided on my destiny.’

‘Frak the gods.’

She looked at him, shocked. She knew he didn’t believe in the gods, he’d always been clear on that, but he’d also always been so careful to respect that others did. It’s one of the reasons she was haunted by the fight they’d had regarding Kara’s return. He’d always respected her faith, and then she’d used his uncertainties regarding his own to mock him. Of course, he’d fought dirty too, used her most deep-seated fears against her, hurt her badly. But that was part of their dynamic; he didn’t pull his punches with her. They were equally matched. And they trusted each other enough to find a way to forgive. Overcome their differences. Still, the brutality of that fight haunted her.

‘Ok…’

‘You’re not going anywhere.’

Arguments aside, she wondered if he realized just how protective of her he was. Probably not. Or, if he did, he probably justified it as just part of his duties; ensuring the well-being of the President of the Colonies. She sighed. Still always the President. She wondered if he ever thought of her as just ‘Laura’. Still, it was nice to have someone around who wanted to take care of her, even if she didn’t always need it.

‘And frak your _destiny_ , Laura. You are going to fight, and we are going to find earth, and you are going to be there with us.’

She looked up at him once more. ‘It’s just, after Kobol, I thought you had decided that you believed in some of it. The Tomb of Athena, the map, etc.’

‘I believe in _you_. I’ve always believed in _you_.’

She couldn’t keep from smiling, but it twisted her face and came out wry.

His answering smile was equally sad. ‘No, really. Kobol just made it easier.’

He adjusted the blanket, tucking her in as she smiled at him, finding it easier to give him a real smile this time. She leaned her head back against the edge of the couch. Maybe she’d just stay here. Simply cocoon herself in and never leave.

She wondered if he realized how attuned they were to one another. After Kobol, after Cain, they’d grown incredibly close, day by day. Still, they maintained a sense of professional distance, unconsciously shying away from anything too intimate, even if they both sensed they wanted it. New Caprica had stripped those shields from them. She'd held no public office, and if the Fall of the Colonies had taught them anything, it was to embrace the moment. Though they hadn’t been intimate, it was clearly a question of when, and not if.

They couldn’t back away from that, even if sometimes he tried. She didn’t bother. She didn’t believe in lying to herself or to those she cared for. In any case, subconsciously their bodies always betrayed them. It wasn’t an accident that her feet never touched the ground when they met alone; they were always curled up under her. Personal space ceased to exist for them. She treated his quarters as her own, and her security detail retreated when he met with her on _Colonial One_. It wasn’t unusual for her to use his rack when she needed it, which she increasingly did, and his couch had become her new favorite place.

So. She would enjoy his company and his family. She would enjoy his warmth. She would enjoy _him._ She would take whatever warmth, whatever strength, whatever _life_ , he could pour into her.

It didn’t necessarily mean she loved him.

No.

It didn’t necessarily mean he loved her.

No.

Love made you vulnerable.

She wouldn’t do that to him.

He might have dropped his distance. Might have dropped the shields he had tried to put up between them after New Caprica.

She would build her own. Be strong.

When, no, _if_ , the cancer took her, she would have to leave him.

She wouldn’t leave him vulnerable.

She wouldn’t leave him bleeding.

She would be strong.

Even while it killed her.


	3. I Just Get Confused

I’m dreaming.

I always know it when I’m dreaming.

It’s when I’m awake that I get confused. It’s the chamalla. It messes with your mind. At least for me.

The visions were _really_ confusing.

This time I know I'm not experiencing one of those.

I’m on New Caprica and I’m drowning.

Or rather, I’m being drowned. Two of the Leobens were holding my head underwater, while D’anna D’Biers gloats.

_Wake up, Roslin. Wake up. This isn’t real._

I bolt straight upright, sweating.

Sure enough, I'm safe in my bed, while the engines of the _Colonial One_ hum beneath me. My cot may be small, but at least it is dry. Oh, and I'm not surrounded by psychopathic Cylons. Always good news.

_It’s okay, Laura, it’s okay. You’re safe. You’re home. You’re safe._

I sit up in the cot and make sure I can see the stars and the reassuring bulk of the _Galactica_ , framed in my window.

_You’re such a baby, Laura._

Lately, I can’t sleep unless I see _Galactica_ there. It usually is, just as it had been since the beginning, since the first few terrifying days following the attacks. Sometimes it wasn't, sometimes it was called away for this emergency or that, but those occasions were rare. It had always been the safest place for the _Colonial One_ , next to the massive ship, and once the Admiral and I’d gotten, well, used, to each other, I’d gotten used to having it there. When I'd had to move after Racetrack’s Raptor smashed into my original quarters, I'd made sure my bed was placed to ensure an unobstructed view of _Galactica_ out my window.

Right now, though, I’m unsettled. I know I won’t be able to get back to sleep anytime soon.

I wondered if Bill was awake.

_I will not call him. I will not call him. Be strong Laura._

I’d become too dependent on him lately. I couldn’t picture going through this without him, the doloxan treatments, especially, without him. Without his company, without that deep, gravelly voice beside me, reading those unfortunate hard-boiled mysteries we both love. I swear, I’d listen to him reading the phone book in that voice.

Gods, I love that voice. Gods, I love…

Nope. Not going there.

I’m dying. I know it, he knows it. I know it weighs on him.

I have to be strong. I have to avoid adding to the weight that bows down his shoulders.

So, I’m not going to call him. Plus, it’s the middle of the night. Even if that doesn't mean the same as it once did. There’s no night and day in space, anymore than there is up and down.

I wonder if he’s on shift.

No.

I’m not going to call him.

Besides, I know he’s not on shift. He’s changed his schedule to match my diloxin treatments. He always wanted to make sure he was able, duty permitting, to take me to them.

To make sure I went.

_He’s sleeping, just like you should be,_ I tell myself. _You don’t want to wake him. You're not so far gone that you need the sound of his voice to soothe you to sleep._

I tell myself that, tell myself anything, to keep from calling him.

I must have fallen asleep again, curled up in my cot, because I’m dreaming again.

Bright sunlight, my eyes closed, and my face tilted up to catch every drop, curled in my Muskoka chair. The first day of spring on Caprica. It’s barely warm enough to sit outside, I’m still wearing my winter jacket, but I don’t want to miss a single minute of the sun’s warmth.

It’s been such a long winter.

When the sun fades, I’ll have to go in, it’s still not warm enough to sit outside without it. But that’s a ways away, and the sun feels so good on my bones, as it warms my aching body.

_Wait, I am dreaming, right?_

For once I’m not so sure. My bones ache right now, and there’s usually no pain in my dreams. That’s usually the tell. It’s one of the ways I can tell that I’m having chamalla-induced visions instead.

When twelve vipers crawled across my podium, I still hurt. So I knew I wasn’t dreaming. I knew. _This is a vision,_ I told myself. _People can see me. I have to hold myself together._

I ache now. Every muscle, every bone, every pore. So, this is a vision?

Of me, relaxing on my patio on Caprica?

I wait to see what will happen, what it will tell me. How it relates to our journey. Our quest. Instead I just feel warm and relaxed, caressed by the sun.

But, if this is a dream, why do I still ache?

I shouldn’t.

Still, it’s enjoyable here with the sun with my face. I’d just decided to stay here for a while when I wake up.

I still ache, I’m still cold, I’m still alone, and the _Galactica_ is missing from its spot in my window.

Godsdamn it.


	4. And I Come All Undone

He hated going to _Colonial One_.

He had always hated it. It wasn't so much the occupant, (although…there _had_ been a time). He simply disliked this particular ship. He simply found it…blah. And landing... He often felt awkward as a passenger in someone else’s ship, often wished he could take the controls. He never had that urge in regards to _Colonial One_. Ok, he was just an old Viper pilot who had never taken to flying Raptors, but he knew he wasn't the only one who hated landing on this ship. 

He knew some people referred to the _Galactica_ as the Bucket, (though never around him), but he had always felt there was a beauty about her, her deadly competence lethal and powerful. She would always get you where you needed to go, always keep you safe. Although she might be worn along the edges, cold and grey and utilitarian, she was, well, cozy. 

Frak. He must be tired if he was coming up with bad poetry.

He tried to keep his distaste from showing as he walked through the corridors of the President's ship. At least he didn’t have to live here. It was supposed to look sleek and elegant, this luxury liner turned presidential residence, but all he could think of was how bland it seemed. 

No wonder Laura preferred to curl up in his quarters.

He hadn't thought of it before, but she mostly came to him, shuttling back and forth to the _Galactica_. Maybe it was because she needed to get out, what with living and working jammed into a couple hundred square feet. With the curtain open, you could see into her living quarters from the doorway of her office. Still. He hadn’t realized until now how much he appreciated how often she came to him. 

He automatically stood at attention after stepping into her office. She wasn’t alone.

‘Any help you can give me, Tom.’ She smiled at her Vice President.

‘Not at all, Laura.’

_Hmmm_. Here he was, so careful to maintain the public façade of professional distance, while _frakkin’_ _Tom_ _Zarek_ could treat her like they were the oldest of friends. 

_Which they weren’t._

Zarek nodded as he passed him on the way out. ‘Admiral.’

‘Mr. Vice President.’

‘Admiral.’ Laura looked up and beamed at him. 

‘Madame President.’ 

Her aide Tory had scheduled him for the last meeting of the day, so they could take whatever time they needed. Still, he reminded himself not to stay too long. There were already circles under her eyes; the diloxan was taking its toll. He made sure the shades were up before he took his seat next to her; looking at the stars always soothed her.

‘There isn’t anything wrong is there? Not that I don’t enjoy seeing you, but I thought we’d taken care of everything when we spoke earlier.’

He wasn’t going to tell her that he’d worried about the weariness in her voice when they'd spoke over the wireless.

She snorted. ‘Hopefully it’s not about Baltar. I’d had enough of Gaius Baltar to last a lifetime.’ 

_Frak it._ She’d see through his excuses anyway.

‘I wanted to see you. I was worried.’

He was relieved when she relaxed, tucking her feet underneath her, snuggling further into her chair. 

‘ _Mmm_. I’m sorry, I’m just tired. And nauseous. I’m not sure the frakking diloxan is worth it.’

_Whoa._ ‘Laura – ’

‘It’s okay, relax. I know I need it. It’s just it seems so pointless. I mean, I know I said that if it came back I was going to be open about it, and I was going to fight it, but it just seems _useless_. Some days I think I should just enjoy the time I have left.’

_Frak_. He knew her mother had died from breast cancer, he knew the memory of those last days haunted her. He winced. He knew she blamed the diloxan. 

He let her vent.

‘I mean, I _know_ I have to do this. I know. Today was just harder than usual, and I’m tired of going twenty rounds with Cottle.’

_Okay, Husker, focus._ She was just feeling crappy. He’d just make sure that he went with her for the appointments. Made sure she got through them okay. _Make sure she went._ He could live with many things, but a universe without Laura Roslin? 

Not one of them. 

‘When’s your next appointment?’

She made a face as she rested her head against the headrest and closed her eyes. 

‘Three days.’

Ok. He had some time. Noting she was shivering, he got up and covered her with her favourite throw. He knew it wouldn’t be enough. He’d prefer warming her himself, but the seats weren’t big enough. Plush but not functional. Not meant for two. Plus, the window seals were faulty so it was always cold. Another reason to hate this frakking ship.

He’d been after her for weeks to have the seals replaced. _Well, you have to have them replaced_ _ **for**_ _her, Adama._ Ship maintenance was ultimately his responsibility in any case. He’d talk to the Captain of the _Colonial One._ Meanwhile, he needed to get better at managing her. He smiled wryly. Good luck with that. He’d been trying for three years. 

‘You should stay overnight on _Galactica_ when you have to see Cottle.’

She opened one eye cautiously. ‘Stay overnight.’

‘No reason we can’t arrange our meetings to coincide with the treatments.’ 

_Talk_ _**fast,** _ _Adama._

‘You can rest in my quarters, use the wardroom for meetings.’

‘Mmmm. Maybe.’ 

_Good_. 

He should go. She needed her rest and it couldn’t be good for her, sleeping in a chair. _Though that cot of hers wasn’t much better._

He was sure she’d sleep better in one of his beds _._

He watched over her while she slept, and made his plans.


	5. If I Breathe, Well

She’d seen that look before. Lee Adama had found his focus. All of his doubts, all his uncertainties had been stripped away. He’d found his purpose, his conviction. Kara. Kara Thrace had returned and Lee had found his focus. 

Yes. She’d seen that look before.

His father had told her once that he’d found his on Kobol. Not in the prophecies or the gods or the search for Earth. In her. In her conviction. In her surety that she would bring them home. 

She’d told him that he’d drank too much ambrosia.

She’d had to deflect it; the love and faith she’d seen shining out of his eyes. It filled her with so much love, so much devotion, that she feared she might burst. She couldn’t handle it. Afraid she’d melt in front him, afraid she’d break him, she’d had to break the tension instead.

For once, she’d truly understood Kara, truly understood her fear in the face of the younger Adama’s ongoing, palpable, devotion. No one, no one human at least, could sustain that sort of love, at least not in the face of their beloved’s faults, their quibbles, their failings. Kara always said she’d break Lee before he realized his love wasn’t real, couldn’t be real. She’d break him before he broke her. 

Before Bill’s confession, Laura had often wondered why Kara didn’t just grab Lee, grab the love that shone before her, unconditional and true. Did she not realize how rare that was? It grew the more Kara fought it, the more Kara fought her flawed humanity. The end of the worlds notwithstanding, Sam and Dee notwithstanding, Lee Adama wasn’t going anywhere. 

She’d often wondered, that is, until Bill spoke of Kobol. She sometimes wanted to scream at him. 

Look at me. I’m _Laura_. I’m real. I’m not some ideal you’ve built up in your mind. I’m here, I’m a mess, as flawed as Kara. They both accepted they were hopelessly flawed. It only sat easier on Laura because she’d had more time to adjust. It wasn’t because her failings were any less embedded in her corroded psyche. Kara’s at least were personal. When she failed, she failed only herself.

Laura’s flaws failed everyone. 

And now Kara was back.

Looking at Lee now was like looking at a man stripped to his ultimate self. No longer a Colonial officer, but also no longer feeling constantly judged in contrast to his father. No longer married to Dee, but also no longer reliant on a false support in an unequal pairing. Compatible they were; matched they were not, mated they were not. Kara’s death had eviscerated Lee, and it was this, as much as his involvement in Baltar’s trial, that had led to the permanent split in his marriage. As conflicted as she could see Lee was, he was also clearly relieved. Kara’s return had only cemented it.  


Laura wished she could simply rejoice in Kara’s return. She wished she didn’t have to consider it from her perspective as President. She’d mourned Kara, too. They’d grown so close, on New Caprica. They shared so much; Bill; their faith; Lee; Kobol. But Laura had to consider Kara’s return as a potential Cylon trick; that she herself might be a Cylon. She had to consider what it meant to the Fleet, to her people.

The Adamas took a simpler tack. For Lee, Laura knew, Kara’s return was simply a miracle, simply a sign that they were on the right path to earth. He’d lost her, mourned her, and now he had her back. For him, she could never be anything, _anyone_ but Kara. He was ready to believe in her, in miracles, and so he would. For Bill, she was his long-lost daughter, back, whole and hearty and healthy. She was not his miracle, he had never believed in them, but he wanted to believe in _her_. And so he would.

Laura tried not to be bitter, but she couldn’t help it, it leaked out. He’d never believed in her like that, at least, not until the Tomb of Athena, not until the reality of it slapped him in the face. Kara simply asked, and he believed. Because he wanted to. Objectively Laura knew it was at least partially due to the fact that he’d spent the last three years believing in Laura herself, but it still stung. Didn’t believe in the gods, did you, Bill? Didn’t believe in the prophecies and destiny and the Dying Leader. Didn’t want to. Not until Kara came back and you _had_ to believe. Believe in them or accept she’d never really been your Kara to begin with.

‘Admiral Atheist’, she’d called him. Ready to claim his piece of the Arrow, ready to grasp at anything to avoid thinking he’d been betrayed _again_ by someone he loved, avoid losing his family one by one. Avoid losing Kara the way he was losing Lee. Sometimes she wondered if it was because Laura alone wasn’t enough for him. Maybe that’s why he refused to reach for her, clinging instead to a shield of professional distance.

If Bill could love Kara despite her flaws, couldn’t he love the real Laura too? Even if she was dying in front of him, even if he couldn’t admit it, even to himself? It scarred her, when he looked at her as if she held the answers to all his unvoiced, disbelieved prayers. When he loved the ideal of her rather than the woman standing in front of him. 

Still, she wasn’t sure she could live without that devotion anymore. Wasn’t sure she could handle the darkness without it.

So she looked away.

And she understood Kara for the first time.

Eventually, she’d have to let the anger go, she knew that. But she wished she’d never had to question why her family had come undone. Undone when she needed them the most.

Undone when she needed them to remind her to live.

Because some days she wondered why she bothered.


	6. It's Just to Appease You

_ Leave Me Be. _

It’s easier to be stoic in front of strangers. You know me too well.

‘Laura?’

I open my eyes, fighting down the nausea. The nurse must have left, you’d never use my first name otherwise. Suddenly, I want you to scream it, not caring who heard. I’m tired of you pretending that I’m nothing to you but a title.

It drives me nuts when you do that, when you objectify me. When you insist on seeing me only as a symbol; as the President, not as Laura. Never as Laura. I know that’s why you do it, know you use my title, my position,  _ our _ positions, when you need to reinforce the distance between us. The distance you insist is necessary, the one you seemed determined to maintain, especially since that ill-fated Dance.

I need you, now, need you in ways I never have before, need that human connection with you. Why must you insist on making it conditional on our surroundings, on our audience? 

The sleeve of your uniform is within reach, and I reach out and play with the command braid, the red string rough beneath my fingers. You put down the book, taking off your glasses and look at me quizzically from those fathomless blue eyes. 

Clearly you could tell I wasn’t in the mood for a mystery, even one of ours we both adored. 

‘You know what I was thinking?’

No. I could never read you, never completely. Never knew what to expect. You’d been surprising me since the moment we met, certainly since your speech at the decommissioning ceremony. Gods, that feels like a lifetime ago. In all the ways that counted, it was. 

You take my silence for what it is; an invitation to continue.

‘I put on my uniform this morning…’

I smile. You put on your uniform every morning. I’d never seen you out of it, never seen you in anything else. I idly wondered what that might look like. Idly wondered what it might look like if you relaxed with me, truly relaxed. Idly wondered if you take off the uniform tunic when you’re reading in your quarters alone. 

‘…and I had to change tunics…’

I smiled. Well, there had been that one time, the day of the attacks, that I’d seen you at your most casual. Your tunic unbuttoned, untucked from your pants, worn like a robe with your tanks showing underneath. Your body turned as far away from me as possible, our handshake sealing our reluctant bargain, your neglected cigarette dangling from your other hand. 

I hum deep in my throat. In some ways that was the most intimate we’d ever been, mainly because you thought so little of me that you didn’t care if I saw you that informal. You’d tried harder, later, to maintain some sense of decorum. To respect our positions and the dignity of my office. Sometimes you tried more than I did, tried to make me feel like the president, as Lee had said. You tried to give me that, even as you and I focused on making our partnership work, worked to make it one of equality and trust.

_ I Don’t Want to Love You.  _

I already feel your pain when you look at me. If I loved you, I’m not sure I could take it. 

I had to break that early trust. I  _ had _ to. And I’d do it again. It’d turned out alright, thanks to your willingness to forgive, but I wish I hadn’t had to do that. I always want your trust; I always want you on my side. It kills me when you look at me with disbelief, with disgust. It doesn’t happen often, hadn’t even in those early days, when it didn’t seemed like we were equals, not then, not like it does now.

I focus again on the present.

‘I pinned my stars on the new tunic. I thought of you. Do you remember the day you gave me these?’

Do I?

It feels like yesterday, it feels, again, like a lifetime ago. I remember placing the box in your hand. I giggle, just as I did then. I’d been so tired, that day, so weak, but I’d felt such glee, putting the Admiral stars in your hands.

‘You kissed me.’

_ Did you blush? _

‘I did.’

I smiled. I had known that kiss for what it was; a benediction, a wish, a goodbye. I also knew you’d been trying to infuse me with hope that moment, just as you’d with the conversation which had preceded it. 

Still. I couldn’t resist teasing you. 

‘I’d wanted those stars so badly at one point.’

I tilted my head. ‘You told me.’ Yet from your tone, there was more to this story. I waited. 

_ I Just Get Confused and I Come All Undone. _

‘I hated myself for that.’

‘What? Why?’

‘Something I’d always wanted, something I once thought I deserved, something I might have acheived if it hadn’t been for other…factors. There it was. Dropped into my lap. But at such a cost. If I believed in the gods, I’d say they were laughing at me that day. Punishing me for my vanity.’

‘Because of how it happened? Because of the attacks? Bill, come on. That wasn’t your fault. I know sometimes you think that, but you have to know it wasn’t.’

‘No.’ You pause, playing with your glasses which sat in your lap, refusing to meet my eyes. ‘Because the cost was you. Dying in front of my very eyes.’

‘I was dying anyway.’

‘You could barely stand. You could barely  _ stand _ .’

‘So much pain those days, so much hatred. I just wanted some happiness.’

‘Maybe, but it felt like I was paying for those stars with your soul.’

‘Well. I’m not dying today.’

You smile, acknowledging the words you’d once given me. 

_ If I Breathe, well... _

It  _ feels _ like I’m dying today. 

It feels like I’m dying every day that I come to these frakking doloxan treatments. It feels like I’m dying when I ache everywhere, when I can’t breathe.

I don’t want to be here anymore. Well, to be honest, I never wanted to be here at all. It’s you who always reminds me to come, you who tell me again and again that this was my job now, to do this, to live. You’re the one who reminded that I’d sworn that I was going to fight this. You’re the one who insists that it’s worth it. 

You’re the one, the one who doesn’t give me the option of  _ not _ going.

I can’t remember why.

‘Laura. Please. Breathe.’

_ It’s Just to Appease You. _

Right. I remember why. 

Because you demand it of me. 

That’s why. We both know it. The days I question why I’m doing this, the days I question whether my whole life has actually been a massive cosmic joke…I don’t know how you managed to get Cottle to let you pull rank, to overcome his belief in doctor-patient confidentiality, to give up my schedule. But you did. And I’m grateful. I am. Even when I have to resist the urge to scream at you for making me go through this, for making sure I go to my treatments, for making me keep my promises to myself.

‘I’m okay.’

You smile and squeeze my hand. I’m not, you know it, I  _ know _ you know it, but you don’t say anything. 

You let me pretend I’ve fooled you.

_ ‘Cause I Can’t Remember.  _

Snap out of it, Laura.

I have to snap out of this. I have to stop feeling sorry for myself. It’s just making it harder and it’s not helping anyone, least of all you. Least of all me. I think part of it is that I’m angry at you over Kara, about what we said after Kara’s return. Hell, I’m still mad at you for listening to Lee, for voting for Baltar’s acquittal, but it’s time to move past it.

‘Yell at me. I don't want to get out of bed.’

You smile at me. 

_ We can get pass this, right? _

‘I was just thinking of going back to bed.’

Was that only this morning? Seems like weeks ago.

It’s funny, I’d been so sure of our friendship in that moment, so sure we were moving forward, together. So sure. As sure as I’d been since Kobol.

‘You broke your promise to me,’ you’d said, as we sat under that tarp, in the rain that never stopped on that vibrant, green, deadly planet. The two of us, alone on Kobol, even while surrounded by others. The two of us wet and angry and confused. Weak, so weak. There was still a bandage plastered on under your uniform, soaked with the blood that oozed out of your chest wound. I could feel the ache in my bones as the cancer claimed my cells one by one, each one a silent victory, each victory one step closer to easing me out of this life. 

You’d accused me of breaking my word, of breaking with  _ you _ on that vibrant,  _ deadly _ , green planet. The political is personal, and for no one more than you is this true. I had broken your trust, there was no two ways about it. I had, and it had been that which upset you the most. I’d broken your trust, and I’d stolen your daughter, turned her against you. I’d sent her back to Caprica on some foolish suicidal mission.

It’d broken the trust we’d built up in the flight from the Colonies, broken the friendship we’d only had a chance to start building. Broken the fleet in two, split friends and families and our purpose.

I  _ had _ to do it. I’d do it again. Send Kara, get the Arrow, go to Kobol, find the Tomb. 

It makes me wonder; do you have that same sense of purpose, now? I know you’re following your principles, are you right? Am I wrong? Was acquitting Baltar really a necessary step to preserving our civilization? Our humanity? Objectively I can agree with Lee, can understand your vote, but when I look at him… I see Death. Death on Caprica, Death on New Caprica, Death in the skies above it as Baltar’s ‘stolen’ nuke takes out five ships and 4500 people. Am I to forgive that too? Can I? Simply because we couldn’t prove it in court?

_ ‘Not Guilty is not the same as innocent.’ _

And Kara? How big of a leap of faith am I expected to make? Mysteriously back from the dead, the one person you would die to have back, the one person Lee would kill to have back. Kara, the best of us, the most flawed, the most  _ human _ , lost and now found. Can we really trust her? If I were choosing one person to lead us to our ends, one false miracle to lead us to ruin, would I not choose our lost angel? She is still every bit as flawed, still every bit as human. They did make her perfect. 

Do I really have to believe she’s a Cylon trick?

Can she really be our miracle?

I wish I could believe that. I wish I didn’t have to be so careful all the time. I wish I could believe.

If it were just me…me and you, and Lee and Sam…then maybe I could.

But it’s not. And I can’t.

Still, y _ ou’ve _ found a way to square your belief in us both. I will find a way to be grateful. 

I must.

‘Cancer’s a bitch.’

You sigh. ‘Yeah.’

It’s one hell of an olive branch, but it’s the best I can do. I’m quicker to anger, lately, slower to forgive than I used to be. I’m choking on an apology. I can’t say it, but I want to. Want to apologize for taking out my anger at the cancer’s return out on you. 

I can feel you looking at me, sense your fathomless eyes trying to meet mine. I can’t meet that gaze though, I’m too ashamed. I keep my eyes on my hands, folded in my lap.

You try for a moment more to get me to meet your gaze before putting your glasses back on, settling into your chair and picking up the book once more. You start reading again, resuming the story of Sam Slade, world-weary detective, digging through the sludge of Caprica City’s mean underbelly, searching for justice despite himself.

I remember with longing the ease of our friendship since New Caprica, the ease of our company. 

I  _ need _ that now. Even if that’s all you can give me, it’s enough. It has to be.

To get it back, I’ll have to forgive. Forgive you, forgive myself. I can’t get through this without you. Even if it’s the end, unless I want to spend my last days alone, wallowing in my bitterness, I can’t get through it without you. 

_ What We’re Fighting For. _

After all, you’re not going anywhere. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say 'hi' all my colonial friends, I'm at twitter at @RandomBks


	7. I Can't Remember

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fluffiest of chapters. Laura's a little drunk and Bill's looking tasty.  
> Seriously, it's set in season four and yet...  
> There are giggling and sexual innuendos and one-liners in this chapter - I wrote it and I'm not sure how I managed that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fluffiest of chapters. Laura's a little drunk and Bill's looking tasty.  
> Seriously, it's set in season four and yet...  
> There are giggling and sexual innuendos and one-liners in this chapter - I wrote it and I'm not sure how I managed that.

_Hmm_ , the edges of her sight line were getting fuzzy.

_I only had one drink, right?_

_Right. While I'm on Chamalla and Diloxan. Really shouldn’t have mixed the three._

She looked at Bill in the seat across from her. At least she was already in her quarters on _Colonial One._ The rumour mill would go crazy if she was seen stumbling home drunk through the halls of her ship. It would go into overdrive if she was seen stumbling drunk through the halls of the _Galactica._

Bill hadn’t yet noticed. He was still smiling from something silly she’d said moments before.

_He really was pretty._

_Frak. Definitely drunk._

She smiled. It had been a while. She probably wouldn’t have set out to get drunk, but since it had happened accidentally, she’d might as well enjoy it.

She leaned in, thought about encouraging him to tell her a funny story. She’d might as well enjoy flirting with her Admiral.

He stared at her.

‘You’re drunk.’

‘Yup. Turns out moonshine and cancer drugs don’t mix.’

She sighed when she saw his eyes get sad. Damn. They had been doing such a good job of forgetting.

Determinedly, she sought to recapture the moment.

‘Hasn’t happened in a while. I forgot how much fun it is when the edges get a little fuzzy.’

He laughed. Y _up. Really pretty._ She wondered how she could get him to laugh more often. Still, she kinda liked it that he only really did it with her.

She snuggled into her chair. She had a few hours. She could pay for the lack of sleep tomorrow.

She wasn’t quite sure how much time had passed when he’d decided he needed to be the responsible one. He got up and held out his hand.

‘Come. I’m not leaving until you’re safe, tucked away in bed.’

_Well now._

For such a quiet man, he had the best one-liners.

She strode confidently through the archway that separated her working and living space. She’d get changed before brushing her teeth. In one quick movement she unzipped and dropped her skirt before turning her attention to unbuttoning her blouse.

She could have sworn she heard a groan coming from the doorway.

_Frak. Did I forget to tell him that I was getting changed?_

She turned to see him, his back turned away from her, resolutely facing away from her bedroom and into her office.

_Oops. Oh well._

She finished undressing quickly and slipped the nightgown over her head. She pulled on her robe and sat on the small settee by the port side window. It was nowhere near as comfortable as the couch in his quarters, but, hey, it was handy. 

She patted the seat next to her in invitation. ‘Have a seat.’

He slowly took the seat next to her as she snuggled as best she could into the uncomfortable furniture, tucking her legs up under her, turning towards him and resting her head on the back.

‘I can’t remember. Why aren’t we sleeping together?’

‘ _Frak_.’ She’d never seen him move quite that fast. He jumped from the couch and paced in the small space between the bulkheads.

‘Madame President. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

‘No seriously, Bill. Why aren’t we?’

‘We have responsibilities.’

‘To the Fleet. Yes, you’ve mentioned that before. We do. But, as I said, we should be open about talking more about the good times, about remembering what we’re fighting for.’

‘Laura – ’

‘Unless you’re not interested.’

He shot her a look.

‘Sometimes I wonder. If the Cylons hadn’t attacked, if we’d met randomly at some government function, would you have asked me out?’

‘We started fighting the moment we met.’

She smiled, trying to keep the sadness at bay.

‘Yes, well, then, when you came to my office to apologize for being so rude and bought me coffee and we'd gotten to know each other a bit better, _then_ would you have asked me out?

‘I would have apologized _and_ bought you coffee?’

‘I’m adorable.’ She paused. ‘And you were insufferably rude.’

He winced but stopped pacing and looked directly at her.

‘I would have asked you out.’

‘Well. Good. At least there’s that. Look, I agree. We do have responsibilities. And I’m not saying we should forget them. But I have to say, it’s nice to feel like Laura again.’

‘You’re always Laura.’

‘No, I’m The President, or the Dying Leader, or, etc. etc. etc. You’re the person I feel like I can be Laura with. Although the ‘Madame President’ bit is getting a bit old.’ She giggled. It felt like she hadn’t done that in a long time. ‘It’d be one thing if you were using it as camouflage or,’ she smiled mischievously, ‘in less _formal_ situations.’

‘Laura!’

‘Hey, you started it. Quarters _are_ getting a bit cramped. Am I still welcome in one of your beds?’

‘Roslin! Focus. Bed.’

She grinned.

He sighed. ‘Frak.’

That did it. Now she had the giggles again. Deciding to let him off the hook, she took off the robe and demurely draped on the chair next to her small cot before pulling back the covers and climbing in. She smiled innocently up at him while he tucked her in before leaving to get her a glass of water.

When he went to leave, though, she grabbed his hand.

‘Sit.’

‘ _On_ your bed? Really?’

She tugged him down to sit next to her.

‘Tired. Stay?’

‘If that’s what you want.’

She smiled as she snuggled into her pillow.

‘I’ll see you tomorrow?’

‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’

She wanted him to stay while she went to sleep. It would make a nice image to replace the ones she had of him in conjunction with hospital cots and diloxan treatments. Not that she didn’t treasure those, but they were associated with pain and anxiety.

This one could just be pure.

She smiled.

_OK, well not that pure._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm at twitter at @RandomBks, come say hi!


	8. What We're Fighting For

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I broke even my rules for this one, it's over 2,000 words, but at the time I justified it as acceptable for the finale. It's a very sweet and soft way to end the series.
> 
> Anyway, I think we can agree that the only person who gets more under Bill Adama's skin than Laura Roslin does is his oldest son, Lee "I can never get quite centred" Adama. It's one of my favourite relationships through the series, the way it ebbs and flows, and the interplay between the two Adamas and Laura.
> 
> If you want more of it - well, it's pretty much my brand. For proof of that, please see ["Laura Roslin and the Adama Boys"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23178916)

She could hear the yelling even before she turned the corner to the Admiral's Quarters and knew immediately who was in there.

Only one other person made him that mad. It was funny, when she and Bill fought, they got deadly quiet. Their fights were almost never personal (with one or two notable exceptions), although they were always passionate. Still, their anger buried itself in their silences and their biting, civil words. In contrast, Bill's arguments with Lee always led to raised voices and virulent words.

She sighed but kept her face impassive, hiding behind the Presidential facade. She was sure the discreet Marines posted outside the door had already gotten an earful, but there was no need to add fuel to the fire.

She was still some distance away when the hatch was yanked open and Lee stormed out. He barely paused as he passed her.

'Madame President.'

She nodded.

'Lee.'

She continued down the hallway, nodding at the Marines as she stepped through the hatch and closed it behind her.

She found him pacing angrily down the centre of the room, his glasses tossed negligently on top of a stack of paperwork on his desk, his top collar unbuttoned. She could almost see the steam coming off of his skin.

_It was fascinating, really. It was so different. When he fought with her he only became more stoic._

He turned abruptly, finally seeming to notice her presence. He tried to pull himself together.

'Madame President, ah, you needed something?'

He clearly wanted her out of there. Whatever he and Lee had been fighting over had him in a tizzy.

Smiling slightly, she walked over to the drink cart, poured him a glass a water before walking over and placing it in his hand. She looked up into his eyes and smiled into them. Cupping his face in her hands she waited until he closed his eyes and leaned into her.

'Bill.'

'Laura.'

He deflated suddenly and sat down abruptly on the couch, bracing his elbows on his outspread knees and pinching the bridge of his nose. He looked tired. She knew that he'd just finished a twelve hour shift. More than that, fighting with Lee always exhausted him. The two of them, they both tried so hard to get along, but they always ended up butting heads. Still, it was almost healthy that they got it out once in a while. If they didn't, they ended up walking on eggshells, waltzing carefully around each other before the inevitable explosion, which was always worse.

She and Bill had never been like that. They'd fought like cats and dogs since the moment they’d met, but it had never been personal. If anything they had fought to keep things professional, knowing they were bound to butt heads on a regular basis. Sure enough, when they’d crossed that line (both times ironically over Kobol and Kara), the repercussions had been disastrous.

So. They fought, and fought often, but they kept it to issues that fell in that nebulous region where the shared and respective duties of President and Admiral overlapped.

Lee and Bill, though...

_With the Adamas, everything is personal._

She sat next to him, touched his uniform sleeve in support and resisted the urge to giggle. It was petty of her, she knew, and, really, she was sure they had been fighting over weighty matter which should concern her, but sometimes...

_Oh, my boys. All we really want is for you two to get along..._

'Want to talk about it?'

He grunted. She took that as a no. Well, mostly she'd come to relax in the comfort of his presence, and he'd tell her eventually in any case. She took her shoes off before swinging her feet up under her as she leaned back into the cushions. She leaned her head back, resting it on the back of the couch, and closed her eyes. She made a small sound of pleasure as she relaxed.

'Mmmm.'

'Mmmm. Not very presidential of you, Laura.'

'No, it's not. Not to worry, I've already taken my shoes off. I'm taking a break from being the President at the moment.'

She kept her head resting on the back of the couch, but turned it so she could look at him when she opened her eyes. They shared a smile. Of all the people in the Fleet, he knew that was never really possible.

She closed her eyes once again and relaxed, hearing the pleasant hum of the engines underneath the bulkhead. Who knew she would come to love the _Galactica_ the way she did? Being here made her feel safe in a way she hadn't since the attacks. Even the _Colonial One,_ never felt like home like this old battlestar did.

They sat in shared, comfortable silence.

'He's so stubborn. He's impossible to deal with.'

She smiled but kept her head leaned back and her eyes closed, resisted the urge to roll them.

'You don't say. I can't imagine what that's like.'

'Hah! I can never understand what he's thinking. He never does what I think he's going to.'

'That's 'cause you expect him to think how you think, and to do what you do.'

'What's wrong with that?'

She laughed. She imagined fathers had been asking that exact same question, in that exact same tone, since the beginning of time.

'He's not you, Bill. He's not going to think the way you do. He's not going to do things the way you do. That doesn't mean that his way is wrong. That doesn't mean he doesn't follow his principles. Principles you happen to share.'

'I suppose.'

She could tell that he wasn't convinced, but she could also tell his anger had faded. She smiled. She had known the moment they’d met that there was a passionate man under that stoic facade. Of course, he _had_ started yelling at her within moments of having met her.

_Oh, Adama. Quick to anger, but quick to forgive._

She wished she could learn how to do that. 

He had surprised her that very day, the day they met, with his speech at the decommissioning ceremony. He had continued to surprise her ever since. It was one of the things about him that intrigued her.

'Just like his mother. He's just like his mother.'

'Really? He always reminds me of you. Isn't that why the two of you are constantly butting heads?'

'Hah. No. It's 'cause he never does like he's told.'

She snuggled into his side and tried to hold back her snort.

'Shocking.'

His wry smile came out.

'It's funny, how much he takes after Carolanne's side of the family. Maybe that's why _she_ was always hardest on him.'

'Really? I would have thought he was the golden boy.'

'No, no, that was always Zac, her baby. Even though _he_ always took after me.'

'So Ellen was right that night?'

'Mmm.'

'Physically, maybe. Lee's clearly your son. He even has your mannerisms.'

'Maybe.'

'And your eyes.'

He smiled again. 'True.'

'Trust me, he's every inch your son. And, from what I've heard, every inch the image of your father in his approach .'

This time he turned to look at her with his wry smile.

'Well, that's reassuring.'

She knew he'd had problems with his father. 

_Again, shocking._

'She was always after me to patch things up with him. My father, I mean.'

'Carolanne?'

'Mmm-hmm.'

'I thought you had.'

‘Sort-off. I guess I just accepted that we would never be close. She was never satisfied with that.'

'Well, I imagine she cared for you, cared for the future of your family.'

'More like she cared for her position in Caprica City.'

'Bill...come on. I'm sure it was more than that.'

'Hah. She never got over the fact that she was married to an old soldier. She always hoped for something more.'

Laura settled more securely into her seat. She'd always wondered about the mysterious Carolanne Adama and about Bill's (apparently) disastrous marriage. The fact that he still wore his wedding ring, even after being divorced for twenty years, was yet another contradictory aspect of her Admiral.

'“Imagine a life outside of the Fleet,” she always said. “When your tour's over, you can retire and accomplish great things. Just imagine what we can do with my family's connections on Caprica and yours on Taurus. You're meant for more than this,” she always said. “Just imagine.”'

'I take it commanding a battlestar didn't qualify as _great things_.'

'Nope.' He laughed. 'You can only imagine her reaction to the _Galactica._ She would have died if she’d been expected to live out the rest of her life on this musty old bucket.'

'I think I’ve heard this speech before.'

'Yeah, Ellen. She wasn't like her though, even if she could be just as volatile. She was more...magnetic. Like sunshine. People were just drawn to her. She was so full of _life_ when we met. Beautiful and blond and bubbly and full of life.'

_Of course she was._

Laura tried to remember not to be jealous of a dead woman. Of all ways Laura Roslin had been described over the years, 'sunshine' had never been one of them. She'd always had too many edges. 

'She sounds...warm.'

'She could be. When we got married I couldn't believe I'd gotten so lucky. She was the girl everyone wanted. When were together... it was just magic. She was also vindictive and petty and manipulative and frustrated that she'd ended up married to an old soldier with no imagination or ambition.'

'Is that why...I'm sorry, I shouldn't have.'

He laughed.

'Afraid of offending me? Don't be. Trust me, the story's not that exciting. I realized one day that we were making each other miserable and I left. I was always away anyway. This way, she didn't have to pretend to want to follow.'

'You left her? I just, I thought...You still wear the ring.'

'I know.' He laughed. 'I'm not sure why I do, I think maybe as a reminder of my failures, or of what we once were to each other, or, of, I don’t know, a reminder of Zac and Lee.'

'Why Bill Adama. Who knew you were a poet.'

He smiled sadly.

'Gods knows she was happy enough to be free of me.'

She rolled her eyes at him and patted his arm. She doubted that.

_Had she met you?_

'But never Lee and Zac.'

'She was always a good mother. I always trusted her to take care of them when I couldn't.' He grimaced and rose to pace once again. 'Or, at least I thought I could.'

She sensed there was more to this story, more to his ongoing troubles with Lee, but when he didn't continue, she didn't push. He was in a sharing mood, and she didn't want to risk shattering the mood. She’d let him vent.

'Lee told me she was on the verge of remarrying.'

'Yes. I was happy for her. She didn't deserve to be alone. She wasn't good at it.'

Hoping to change the mood, she leaned forward.

'Enough of the sap, though, I want the good stuff.'

'Good stuff?'

'It's late, and we've had enough sadness for one day. Tell me stories. Of what you were like when you were younger; of when you joined up, of when you met Saul, and Ellen. Tell me of the adventures of Bill "Husker" Adama: Viper Pilot.'

His laughter filled the small space and she felt its warmth fill her.

'Of Husker's _mis_ adventures, you mean.'

'Whatever.'

She patted the coach next to her and he moved closer obediently. Snuggling in to his couch under his warm throw, his arm around her shoulders and her head on her chest, she listened to the rumble of his voice through his chest as he entertained her with his stories of his misspent youth. Another day, when he was ready, she would ask him of his experiences in the First Cylon War and his service in the peacetime Fleet. He would tell her, when he was ready, of the friends he had lost and of the scars he carried.

For now she would let him entertain her.

Their troubles would still be there tomorrow. They could put them down for a night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi, I'm at [@RandomBks](https://twitter.com/RandomBks)


End file.
